On a Cold Night Like Tonight
by TruestBlue
Summary: Those lips still look the same at 24 as they did at 16... like they’re waiting to be kissed. But when Harry was 16, he wouldn’t have walked beside me on a cold night like tonight.HPDM slash, rated for mature lang. and themes.Draco's POV
1. The Difference

_Chapter-1-On a Cold Night Like Tonight: "The Difference"_

_Disclaimer: JKR owns everything and everyone in the Potterverse. I'm just messing around. For no profit. _

_Author's Note: Hi there. I'm back. Welcome to the first chapter of "On a Cold Night Like Tonight." The fic is pretty typical TruestBlue (if you know my writing). I'm really trying with the prose, guys. The poetry just keeps coming out. I've got a great little story about Prose writers vs poetry writers. I'll write it in the story, at some point, I think. Or maybe I'll send it to whoever asks. But whatever. Thanks to Black-Eyed-Wicca for being my beta. On with the show!_

* * *

"It was a schoolboy crush really. When I was young and stupid. You know how it is. Even then, I knew that nothing could come of the Boy-Who-Lived and a Death Eater's son." Harry nods and chews his lip at my confession. Those lips still look the same at 24 as they did at 16; like they're waiting to be kissed.

But when Harry was 16, he wouldn't have walked beside me on a cold night like tonight. He wouldn't have smiled that warm little half smile of his that makes my blood freeze in my veins. 8 years can make a lot of difference in a relationship. In this case, it's the difference between enemies and friends.

I watch as Harry breathes into the air, and sets clouds of condensation around him. He tucks his hands around his perfect body, an attempt to keep them warm, and stares directly into the space in front of him. He never looks at me when we speak. At first I thought it odd, but now I know it's just another 'Harry thing'. I've always wondered about the reason behind it, but never dared to bring it up. There are some things you just don't talk about with Harry Potter.

"Really? Could've fooled me. You seemed intent on making my life hell." He smiles again, and hugs himself tighter. I catch him shivering when he thinks I'm not looking.

It takes me a second to remember our conversation. Sometimes, I get lost in Harry. Avada-green eyes flip up to peer at my face; evaluating my silence, then flutter back down to the concrete. He told me once that our eyes told a sad story, mine of rain and his of death. Green and Grey. I didn't bother to tell him that I thought they were a gorgeous combination. Some days, everything seems like a tragedy to Harry. I suppose eye color is no exception.

"Yes, well," I tell him as if that explains everything. In a way, it does. Silence sits heavy as a rock between us, and just as tangible.

"I liked Seamus for a little while, back in 5th year. Then Dean in 6th. But no one you don't know about after that." He laughs at the memory, and I quiver at the sound. I glance over to see if he's noticed my misstep, but he's looking away like always.

"Finnegan. Really? I'd pegged you as a Diggory-follower." He laughs again, and I hear his teeth chatter. I slip my jacket off and hand it to him. The air is cold, but I don't care. So is Harry.

"Draco, I'm not some girl. You don't need to take care of me!" '_That's not true,'_ I think, but stay quiet. His eyes shimmer with amusement under the light of the muggle street-lamps.

"Whatever, Potter," I growl in good nature. Harry takes the coat from my hands and wraps it around his shoulders as his flat comes into view.

We stop at his door, and Harry fiddles with his keys. I wait with him for a moment, watching his hands.

"Harry," I say. Maybe this is the time to tell him that my 'schoolboy crush' is really more like 'undying love.'

He looks up, and my breath catches in my throat. Choking on nothing, I look away. I want nothing more than to reach out and pull him to me, and kiss away his worries and pains and struggles. But I won't.

"Nothing, never mind." He sighs a muted sigh and turns to unlock his door. I should be used to my heart breaking on this doorstep, but I'm not. I turn away again to face the cold.

"Draco, you must be out of your mind if you think I'm going to let you walk home, without a jacket in this weather! Come inside and use the floo." I grin at Harry's mother-voice echoing from somewhere in his flat.

"Yes, mommy," I call. I step inside, and close the door behind me.

* * *

When Harry Potter is drunk, you can't tell anything is amiss, at first. He's still gentle and quiet, with that velveteen baritone of his washing over the room in waves. I used to close my eyes, and listen to that melodious voice settle over my senses. Until I started listening to what exactly he was saying.

While under the influence, Harry cannot talk for 3 minutes at a time without dropping some form of sexual innuendo. Hermione says it's because he's too bashful to talk about sex when he's in his right mind.

Ron did point out, though, that Harry had no trouble partaking in the activity. Leave it to the Weasel to talk about Harry screwing someone, who isn't me. I always ignore the sympathetic look from Hermione at the suggestion, and the tears pushing against the back of my eyes. If Harry wants to be 'friends,' then he has a 'friend.' It's about time I put someone else before myself, anyway. It won't kill me, even if sometimes it feels like it might.

Even knowing his predisposition to lewd behavior, Harry always offers me a butterbeer when I come inside. I always accept, and he takes one,(or 4),as well. I don't know anyone, if given the chance, who would turn down a smutty Harry. Me least of all.

He hands me the drink, and I roll my eyes. I know he's forgotten all about the floo. I think Harry just doesn't want to be alone, sometimes. Especially at night. We talk more, about his shitty Ministry position. We talk about my not-so-shitty career in journalism. Thirty minutes and 4 drinks later, I see the glaze of alcohol cover his eyes. His smirk becomes slow and sensual, his laugh deep and husky.

I don't know why I torture myself like this.

Harry's bedroom voice has me tight in my trousers and forces my eyes to the floor. He finally passes out, and I sigh in relief. I lift him, bridal style, into my arms. For the savior of the world, he seems so small. Harry's fragile, delicate. He has a beautiful, peaceful nature. During the war he was forced to be strong, tough, and ruthless. Boys like him are meant to love, not kill. I'm surprised his spirit wasn't broken. He often tells me he had to be a different person to kill someone. The Harry I know couldn't have handled it.

I carry him to his room and lay him on his bed. I look at that sweet face, and startle when warm green eyes blink open.

"Awwwwwwwwww, 's my Draco's off and carried me to bed," He slurs in his stupor. Even though I know he won't remember this in the morning, I blush. I pull my hands from him as if burned.

"Draco, you should staaaay! There's a ton of room. Really. There's a lot," Harry pats the bed next to him and looks up at me with those doe-eyes.

"Sorry, Harry. Not so sure I'd like to explain my presence in the morning." I smile and look at the door. I know I should go.

" 'm suuuure I wouldn't mind, Drakie," My eyebrow raises, but he's too drunk to catch a hint. "Come, then, give us a kiss and come to bed."

'_I wish.'_

"My command!" I hadn't realized I'd spoken aloud until Harry's hands wind around my neck and pull me close.

Dunk people are, in general, not able to kiss very well. Or with very much control, for that matter. Harry is the exception to the rule.

A soft gracing from Harry's downy pink lips. He holds my head still, so I can't move. I suppose it's all the better; I wouldn't know whether to push closer or pull away.

People think that 'mellow,' 'sensitive,' and 'smooth' are all submissive traits. But this kiss was all of those things, but I knew every second, I wasn't the one in control. And so did Harry. He brushed his lips across mine, but never once tried to deepen the contact. Thumbing my cheekbones, he sighed and pulled away.

My hand flies to my tingling mouth and I back away from Harry's bedside. For someone so alert only moments before, Harry appears in the deepest of sleeps. I wonder for a moment if I'd imagined the encounter, but the steady swelling of my lips beggs to differ.

Hands still on my face, I stagger from the room to make for Harry's floo. "Home," I tell it. I never know where it will take me, though, when I say that. I used to test it out just for fun: to see where I thought home really was. But a couple times of ending up in Harry's living room put a stop to my antics.

Tonight, though, I end up in my flat as usual. I reach to pull off my coat, but realize it's still over Harry's shoulders. The thought makes me inexplicably sad.

I pull off my shirt and climb into my bed, wishing it were Harry's.

* * *

_A/N: So? How was the first chapter? Cool? Not so much? Let me know, and drop me a review. I think I'll continiue this if I get 10+ reviews. Thanks for reading. _

_Have a wonderful day!!!_

_TB _


	2. Tell Me Everything

_Chapter-2-On a Cold Night Like Tonight: "Tell Me Everything"_

_Disclaimer: don't own, don't sue._

_A/N: Thanks so much to all who reviewed. You encourage my writing more than you could imagine. This is the second chapter of "On a Cold Night Like Tonight." I'll try and get Draco to cheer up a little this chapter… but not really_

_Thanks for reading!_

* * *

How did I end up best friends with Harry Potter? I lost my pride. Before the war, I wouldn't have offered my friendship again, to him or Hermione. After the death of my father, I realized life's too short to keep yourself from having what you want. 

When I held out my hand to Harry for the second time, the day of my father's funeral, I thought I was doing the right thing. I knew for sure when Harry ignored my hand, and pulled me into an embrace. Every part of our bodies fit together. His head on my chest, my hands on his waist: Like a middle-school slow dance. Last night, I found out our lips fit together just as well as any other part.

When I see Harry again, nothing has changed. I come over to his flat for breakfast the day after "_The Kiss_," and watch him pad around his kitchen. His eyes are narrowed into slits to keep the light out. I cough, and he winces at the sound.

"For Merlin's sake, Harry. Don't you keep hangover potion?" I snap at him. Maybe if I sound angry, he won't see how hurt I am. He shakes his head, then grimaces again, clutching at his hair.

"This doesn't happen a lot," He tells me. Who is he trying to kid? I know exactly how much it happens.

"Well, sit down. I'll get the food." Harry sinks into the chair across from me and pouts. I stare at those puckered lips. I remember them on mine, and I raise my hand to touch my mouth.

Harry's looking at me, with a question on his face. I frown, and pull my wayward hand through my hair. Standing, I push my chair back and stride to the kitchen.

"Draco?" He calls, and I stop dead in my tracks. "What happened last night?" I stay facing away from him and hurry over to the English muffins.

"You got drunk, Potter," I inform him sarcastically. Harry always said sarcasm was a sign of the weak and passive. He's quite right.

"Draco," He repeats, not giving in. "What _happened_ last night?" I know he's confused. For the first time in a long time, green eyes bore into mine as he waits for a reply. I roll forward onto the balls of my feet, loosing my balance. I feel like I'm going to fall into all the emotion in his eyes.

"Nothing, Harry. You passed out, I took you upstairs." I lie quietly. I feel like I'm going to cry. I've never lied to Harry, before now.

"Oh, Draco. What are you not telling me?" I should've know he's see through my pathetic attempt at falsehood. He stands and takes a step towards me, but frowns when I flinch. "I thought we were closer than that. I never thought we'd have to lie to each other. What's so _awful_ that you'd have to hide it from me?" He sounded bitter.

"I'll run and get your potion. I've got some at my flat." I say. Before he can protest, I set the toasted English muffins on the counter, and apparate hastily.

I owl Harry the potion instead of returning to his place. I glance wearily at the clock: I was expected at work 10 minutes ago.

Being a Journalist for _"Chamber of Secrets: Your Guide to Celebrity Wizards!"_ has both benefits and downfalls. I do get to write, but not the way I always wanted to. I once dreamed of being a poet. Then the war came and took away my passion.

War has a habit of destroying art. I don't know what happened to the dream, but the skill stayed with me. Journalism just seemed like the practical thing to do when I'd turned 18. Besides, writing about the entertainment industry and celebrities does give me a lot of room to fictionalize. I _am_ how those nasty rumors get started: it's my job. I'm also the only one keeping nasty rumors about Harry from getting published. But he doesn't know that.

I try hard not to think about Harry as I leave for work. Pictures of us adorn my hallways: Me and Harry at the Burrow for Christmas, Harry catching the snitch, me and Harry at Hermione and Ron's wedding. He'd looked incredible that day. It's like my whole flat is a shrine to our friendship. I would be embarrassed, but Harry's flat is just as bad.

I fail when I try not to stop at my favorite shot. I touch the side of the golden frame gently. Harry and I are caught in conversation, whispering to each other, expressions of mischief and glee blanketing our faces. Harry grabs my shoulder and laughs as he sees we've been caught by the camera.

While he turns to look at the camera and smile sheepishly, my eyes stay trained on him. Like he's the only thing I see in the world. Every time he sees this photo, he tells me I'm the only one in the who wouldn't notice a camera being stuck into my face. For some reason, his saying that makes me terribly upset. Like he's confirming that we could never be, or that he would never notice.

I pull my eyes and thoughts away and apparate to my office. I remember vaguely that my new assistant is supposed to arrive today. She should get used to waiting, anyway.

* * *

In front of me is the second most attractive man I've ever seen in my entire life. Second only to Harry, that is. I run my eyes slowly down his form, admiring the defined muscles, the sharp features, and the big, beautiful hands. His skin is a deep brown, like chocolate, but warmer. 

Serious hazel eyes pierce from behind angular black glasses, giving him the appearance of intelligence. Densely-curly black hair is neatly trimmed on the sides. Full lips, straight white teeth, and no ring on his finger. He looks like something straight out of a magazine.

He watches as I take in his appearance. I try not to drool as a lazy grin makes him even more stunning.

"Draco Malfoy, I presume? Ryan Davison sent from headquarters. I'm assigned to be your new assistant."

It occurred to me that I've heard that name before, but all coherent thoughts pushed from my head as I stand jerkily and offer my hand.

"Mr. Davison, welcome to _"Chamber of Secrets."_ I'm sure you'll be very useful here. Please, let me show you to your desk."

Is it my imagination, or did he hold my hand for just a second to long? I feel myself blushing, and his lazy grin slides back in place. His eyes flit around my office, studying it. They land on a picture of me and Harry. It's the only picture on my desk. Ryan's eyebrow raises.

"Ah, yes, Harry Potter. A good friend of mine." His eyebrow lowers, but I don't feel any better. I clear my throat and gesture to the door.

I watch his ass swing in front of me as he exits the room. I smirk. Maybe today won't be so bad after all.

* * *

"Draco!" I jump as I hear my name. I whirl around to face Harry, who's sitting on a chair in my dining room. I pull off my coat as he stands. 

"Harry, what are you doing in my house?" I ask, in a bored tone of voice. Somehow, I always forget how my heart leaps when I see him.

"What happened last night, Draco?" He ignores my question to ask his own. I sigh and walk to the kitchen.

"The potion worked, I see," I call. I'm avoiding his question and he knows it. "You're back to your usual bratty self."

He follows me into the room and places his hands on his hips. "Why are you avoiding me?"

"I'm not avoiding you, Harry, I saw you this morning. And I work, you know," I tell him defensively. I can't shake the feeling that I've cheated on him in some way. Betrayed him. We're not dating, and checking out another guy's ass isn't a sin. He would've done the same thing. Maybe even more than that. But I've come to find; emotions rarely make sense. This one is no exception.

"Bullocks!" he declares, but appears to have given up for now. He makes for the fridge and browses my selection of snack foods. It's the same as it was yesterday, but he can see that for himself. "How was work?"

"Pretty good, actually," I debate telling Harry about Ryan, and decide I've already lied enough for one day. "The hottest guy ever just started working for me."

"Oh?" Harry's movements still for a second, then resume. "What's he like?" He comes away with some of those muggle hot-pockets. Waving his wand, he heats them.

"Tall, dark, and handsome, pretty much." I say, waiting for a reaction.

Harry snorts and shoves half the pastry into his mouth. "Dark? How can anyone keep a tan in this weather?" He points to the window, where frost already clings to the panes.

"He's black. So that could be it," I inform him, smirking. I know all about Harry's thing for black guys. It's almost as big as his thing for blondes.

Sure enough, his head snaps up so fast I'm sure he'll get whiplash. "Tell me everything." He demands, hoisting himself onto my counter. I marvel at him as he crams the other half of the hot-pocket in his mouth. He's so comfortable; you'd think it was his own flat. Certainly, he's here enough. I should start having his mail sent over here.

"Draco!" Green eyes glitter, amused and impatient. He looks like a child waiting for a bedtime story. The excitement in his eyes feels like a punch. Jealousy peels through my stomach.

"His name's Ryan," I begin. For a moment, I'm miffed at my new assistant for stealing my Harry's attention away from me, even just for one cold night.

* * *

_A/N: Review for TruestBlue!!! Seriously, reviews light up, like, my whole life. Thanks BEW, for the wonderful beta!!! Draco has a lot more misery left, but there WILL be a bittersweet end to the next chapter I PROMISE. Keep reviewing. _

_Have a wonderful day,_

_TB_


	3. Home

_Chapter 3 "On A Cold Night Like Tonight": "Home"_

_Diclaimer: I do NOT own Harry and Company. I don't make money off of them, so don't sue me. _

_A/N: This is one of my favorite chapters in the whole story. Just because of the ending._

_Just for your information, in this story the date is currently "December 8__th__" So when I make references back to an earlier month, you'll have some kind of a clue. Thanks so much for every single review that came in. Really, I need reviews for motivation. Lame? Maybe. But that's the way it is. On with it, then!_

* * *

I was really sure that I would think Ryan less attractive the second time I saw him. That's the way it works, right? You see a hot guy, and you think the sun rises and sets on his ass. The next time… he's just not _that _incredible. 

But Ryan really is that incredible. I walk past his desk to get to my office, greeting him with my customary _"Good Morning, Assistant,"_ nod. But his eyes hold mine a little longer than other assistants I've had. And get this—he nods back.

The motion itself seems a mockery of my formality. I know for sure when that whimsy grin flies across his face.

"Morning, Mr. Malfoy. Coffee's on you desk. You look like a two-sugar-one-cream kind of man."

I try not to look surprised. "I am, Mr. Davison. Thank you."

I close my office door quickly and look around in dismay. Everything's been filed alphabetically, and separated into neatly labeled bins. Coffee steams on my desk, beside the "December 8th" bin. Ryan must have charmed the date to refresh every day.

I pick up the coffee and taste it. It's amazing, but I didn't expect anything less. I look, bewildered, down at my desk. After my 11:30 comes in for an interview, I don't know what I'll do. Everything's practically been done for me.

My 11:30 is another Quidditch player, claiming to have dirt on a fellow teammate. Usually, no one would give a Chudley Cannon's player the time of day, but everything's changed since Ron joined the team back in September. They've not lost a match since.

Mitch Frank, the Cannon's seeker, bursts into my office at 11:44. "You're late," I inform him, glaring. "I've had to cancel two appointments for this. I hope it's good." A lie? Yes. But I hate Mitch. He can't play worth shit and he was rude to Harry once.

"Malfoy, this is good, I swear," Mitch makes himself comfortable, but not in the sweet way Harry does. I bristle. "It's about Weasley." Time seems to stand still. I can barely keep stories of Harry out of the papers. Ron too? Maybe I'll have time to warn him and Hermione before it's out in the papers.

"Oh? What have you found?" I ask slowly, and pray he takes it as a blasé attitude and not a wary suspicion.

"He's having an affair," Mitch says, with triumph evident in his tone. I freeze, disbelieving.

_"What?"_ I hiss, my mouth open wide. "Who?"

"Cho-Chang. The keeper."

What am I going to tell Harry? His best friend's cheating on his other best friend. And the whole thing has to be reported in the paper by his _other _best friend. I rub my temples. "Look at this," Mitch instructs, handing me a photograph.

It's Cho, whispering onto Ron's ear behind the stands. She's smiling, and he's blushing. She kisses his cheek, gives him a secretive look, and runs out from the stands.

I roll my eyes heavenward, secretly asking Merlin if my life could get any worse. What is it about a photograph that brings so much pain? I only genuinely care about three people in the whole world: Harry, my mother, and Hermione. It's just my luck that I have information to report that hurts two of them.

"You're sure," I ask, grinding out every syllable. There's no room for a mistake here.

"Malfoy, please. You saw the photograph. Besides, I knew Weasley was nothing but a dog all along. Running around with that Mudblood of his, with a chick on the side. His whole family, the lot of them: nothing but loony ginger mutts."

My hands curl around the edge of my desk, turning my knuckles while. "If you're quite finished spewing your hateful shit around my office, feel free to leave."

"What, Malfoy? Not going to give me some kind of reward for my findings? A monetary reward, perhaps?"

"My assistant will see to you. Leave this room immediately." My voice rises to a holler by the end of my sentence. Mitch sniffs and turns out the door on his heel.

"Oh, God," I whisper quietly. How do I get into these situations?

* * *

I don't raise my head from my hands until I hear familiar laughter from the reception area. I bolt from my office to see Harry leaning against Ryan's desk, an easy smile on his face. He's still in his formal robes from work, but looks casual as a denim model. Ryan seems to be besotted, grinning shyly up through those sexy glasses. 

Today is _so_ not my day.

"Draco!" Harry says loudly. Just seeing his face makes me think of the Ron situation. Seeing him openly flirt with my secretary? More than I can handle right now. "Draco, I've had the pleasure of meeting your assistant. You didn't tell me how handsome he was!" Harry coos, obviously dishing it out.

Whatever he is dishing, Ryan is sure eating it up. I frown and grab Harry's hand, tugging. "Harry, come on. I've something to tell you."

"Not now, Draco. I was just having a lovely conversation with…" He trails off as he studies my face. "Oh, Draco. What happened?"

Those same old tears feel like they're punching the back of my eyes. "Oh, Merlin, Harry…"

Harry manages to pull me into my office and shut the door before I break down. I start to cry quietly, but as soon as Harry wraps his arms around me it's all over.

"Oh God, Harry, I don't want to tell you this I'm not even sure if It's true. I mean, I'm pretty sure it's true but you never know," I babble and sob. My tears are staining the fabric of his shirt, and his shoulder's getting wet.

"Shhh," Harry whispers, demanding. "You've been so stressed lately. What happened today? What's wrong?"

I pull away from him and stare out my window. "It's about Ron," I start. This was so much easier to say in my head.

"What about Ron?" Harry sounds comforting and alarmed all at once.

"He's having an affair." Silence slips heavy over the room. I'm horrified to find a fresh batch of tears over my cheeks. "I can keep crazy shit about you out of the papers, Harry, but not for everyone. This will hurt Hermione, and you, and Ron and I have to write a fucking _report_on it. And act like I'm _thrilled_ about it or something."

My voice breaks and I melt into his shoulder again. I hiccup when he strokes my back. "You have to publish it?" He asks, in a defeated tone.

"Harry, I could lose my job if I don't! How could I explain passing up information like that? They'll give my position to someone who _would've_ betrayed their friend for a good review. I just don't know which situation is worse: getting fired, or having Ron and Hermione hate me. And you. Oh God, Harry, don't be mad at me."

"_You_ don't be silly," He chides, voice still soft. "How could I be mad at you? You've done nothing wrong. I'm upset with Ron for even putting you in this situation. This is just awful." Harry stands back, and looks at my face. It's no doubt puffy and red, and slick with tears.

"I'll just tell Ryan we're going home, then. You stay here." Harry tells me. My heart stalls when he says "home." Even though I know he's just misspoken, it's still the best thing that's happened all day.

As he leaves the room, I collapse into my chair. I'm glad I told him. But what about Hermione?

Harry comes back and pulls me close again, to apparate back to my place. When we get there, he doesn't leave my arms, but runs his fingers through my hair. He whispers words of apology and sympathy into my ear, making me dizzy with bliss.

Suddenly, the night isn't so cold anymore.

* * *

_A/N: I was a little better about making Draco happy this chapter, right? As usual, thanks for the lovely beta job, BEW. I really do adore reviews, so leave me one. Next chapter coming soon! Sneak Peek: Oblivious!Harry, Jealous!Draco, Jealous!Harry, Sexy!Ryan, Mystified!Ron and Sarcastic!Hermione!!!_

_Have a wonderful day._

_TB_


	4. Know and Understand

_On A Cold Night Like Tonight—Chapter 4: "Know and Understand"_

_Disclaimer: I don't own Harry and friends. : )_

_A/N: Thanks for all the reviews!. But I have to admit:** It's probably the most obnoxious thing in the world to see that someone put your story on alert but didn't give you a review**. It takes like, 2 seconds! "That was nice." or "That sucked." Come on, readers, help me out a little! Please let me know if you enjoy my story, of have a suggestion. :)_

_Adult language in this chapter. You've been warned._

* * *

"Draco, ever since that night, you've been acting different around me. Was it too much for you? Why can't you bring yourself to talk to me about it?" Harry whispers to the air. He thinks I'm asleep, bundled in blankets on my couch beside a half-drunk cold butterbeer. But he should know better: I can't help but listen when he speaks. 

"I just don't want things to change, for us. I love how close we are. I thought there was nothing you wouldn't tell me. I guess I was wrong. Don't you like me anymore?"

"Of course I do," I whisper back, delighting in the startled look Harry gives me. "You're my best friend, Harry," I promise him. He relaxes again.

"I didn't want you to wake up alone," Harry explains, trying to justify his presence in my flat. I would usually tease him, but he seems so vulnerable right now. I don't want to hurt him with a joke. "Draco, what's been with you lately? Even before the Ron thing, you've been… distant. Is it something I've done?"

_'yes,' _I feel like telling him, thinking of _"The Kiss"_. He's still rambling. I feel like I'm about to break out of my skin. Whenever something's wrong, I go to Harry. Who can I turn to now? My secret's all stuck up inside. I can barely think of anything but his lips on mine and his arms around me when we're together.

"Harry, you drop by my work to fucking flirt with my secretary! Then you come home, and act like it's no big deal! Fuck! Do you not even _notice_ what that does to me?" I don't know what makes me say the things I do, sometimes. "Oh, no, that's right: my best friend can't even bring himself to look into my eyes when we're speaking." I yell, finishing my rant. I see him flinch, and my eyes widen. What have I done? My hands fly to my face. Harry's eyes are glued to the floor, and I can almost see the gap between us widen.

"I guess I didn't know he meant that much to you, is all. I'll leave him alone. I'm so sorry, Dray." He hesitates, and I can't believe my ears. How did he come up with this?

"No, Harry," But he stands up quickly, tears pooling in his eyes. He starts to walk out of the room. I push my blankets to the ground and scramble after him. "Harry, wait, you don't get it!"

I catch his wrist by the door, and he flings his arm up, breaking the contact. I gasp, shocked. Even Harry seems surprised at himself.

"Draco," He whispers, "It's fine. I understand. You don't need to explain it to me." Harry touches my cheek, but won't meet my eyes. "I'm late for work."

With that, he's gone. I look at the clock. If I leave now, I'll be an hour early. But it's better than being here without Harry.

* * *

"Don't you fucking hurt him, you understand me? I've not killed anyone since the war, but I'm perfectly willing Avada the _shit_ out of anyone who messes with him. Is that much clear?" 

I'm not exactly sure what to make of the scene in front of me. Harry's got his wand drawn and pointed at Ryan's chest. Ryan appears to be scared shitless, trembling in that rolling office chair of his.

Ryan sees me, and he panics. He lets loose with a frightened "meep," and points to Harry and his wand helplessly. I'm torn between laughing and tackling Harry to the ground.

"Harry?" I ask, still not quite believing my eyes. At the sound of my voice, Harry turns. His wand clatters to the floor. "My office? Now?"

It sounded like a question, but he knew it wasn't. He hangs his head and walks to my door, not before shooting one last crippling glower at my disoriented secretary.

"What are you _doing?" _I bellow, once the door is safely closed behind me. His cheeks burn with shame and he studies the floor as if it's a textbook. Suddenly, he looks up. My breath catches in my throat.

"You mentioned, this morning, that I never look you in the eyes." I can barely think with Harry staring at me like this. I try to look away, but I can't.

"Maybe I just don't want you to know everything that goes on behind mine. Can you see, Draco?" He takes a step towards me, and I gasp quietly. "Can you see what I'm thinking and feeling, just by looking? If anybody can, it's you."

He's come closer, so close I'm shaking. And damn if it's not very nice, or 'friend-like' but I want him right now. I want him to keep his eyes on me, but I also want them gone. There's a swarm of everything in his eyes, but mostly hurt.

"Harry," I beg him. He stops moving, but won't look away.

"Draco, I'm going to ask you one last time. What happened that night?" How could he be so steady while I'm so out of control?

"You're the one with your wand out on my secretary, and I'm getting the questions? That's how it is?" I mumble. I'm amazed I can still talk.

"Yes, Draco. That's how it is." Harry replies evenly. I frown. I can't imagine things being any worse than right now. If he wants to know so badly…

"You kissed me." I whisper. We both look away at the same time, afraid of what's passing between us. For the first time this morning, I see his confidence waver.

"Oh," he murmurs. _"Oh."_ Harry brings his hands to his head. "Draco I'm so sorry…"

His apology angers me. Why does he feel he needs to apologize for the best thing that's ever happened to me? I want to scream. "Don't," I beg him, anguished.

"I already said I was sorry, Draco! I was drunk! It was just a kiss!" Harry throws his hands in the air. His face is flushed pink with frustration.

"Maybe to you, that's all it was!" I roar. All of the sudden, Harry looks tired.

"Draco, I can't do this. I can't fight with you. We're so busy being wrapped up in our own issues, we've completely forgotten Hermione. I think her problems are a bit more… pressing. Please, Draco, I'm not strong enough to do this." He gestures between us while I sigh. In relief? disappointment? I don't know anymore. But Harry's right.

"We should go find her," I agree. I turn to grab my coat. When he thinks I'm not listening, he sighs. It sounds like heartbreak; a sound I know all too well. But I suppose my heart would be breaking too, for my best friend's marriage being threatened. I should be here for Harry, when he needs me most. Could I have even stopped to wonder about his erratic behavior? I feel unexpectedly ashamed of myself. I'm not helping him.

"You're right, Harry. Of course," I murmur. Harry relaxes and reaches out to touch my shoulder. Instinctively, my hand covers his and I thumb his knuckles. It's a motion slightly too intimate for friendship.

We both move away, blushing. "Let's go," suggests Harry.

We apparate to Hermione and Ron's flat without another word.

* * *

I'm sick to my stomach when I get there. Ron's curled around his wife, staring lovingly into her eyes. She's blushing, but smiling sweetly. They've been together since Hogwarts! How can he still make her blush? Longing hits me hard in the gut: I want that. 

I want that same kind of delicate passion that never gets old. I want every week to feel like that first, blissful week when you get together. I want to know that everything will be alright, so long as I have the one I love by my side.

Harry by my side.

I look away from the oblivious couple, embarrassed. Harry mistakes my reaction for anger, and rests his hand on my arm.

"Hermione," Harry calls softly. "Ron, we need to talk.

Our startled friends look up, and smile. "Oh, Draco! Harry! I've wonderful news!" cries Hermione. Her eyes light up when she smiles. Now, I want to be here even less.

"And we've bad news," Harry intones, still quiet. He sends a meaningful glance towards his ginger-haired mate, who sits looking on with his typical confused expression.

"Oh, me first!" exclaimes Hermione. She reaches out and grabs Ron's hand, making him grin nervously. "You remember Cho Chang?" She asks us, happily. Harry and I exchange a look, and decide through our eyes that's it's best to merely nod.

"She's helped Hermione with her fertility problems. I've been meeting her after quidditch practice under the stands to discuss possible treatments." Ron supplies. Harry and I exchange another look; a panicked one.

"She's been so helpful!" Hermione continues, squeezing Ron's hand harder. Harry has begun to visibly pale. "I wanted you two to be the first to know…" She murmurs, gazing adoringly at her husband.

"We're pregnant!" they shout in unison, squealing with joy. Harry looks green. I'm sure I'm not looking a lot better. This whole 'affair' thing has been a huge mistake. How could I have thought that Ron would cheat on Hermione? That man's as loyal as a dog.

"Draco," Harry mutters under his breath, turning his eyes but not his head. "When did you submit the story?"

"This morning." I whisper, horrified.

"What was it you needed to tell us?" Hermione queries, cocking her head to the side.

"NOTHING!" we holler, a little too loudly, with nervous laughter. Harry and I back towards the floo slowly.

"How do we fix this?" Harry hisses, earning odd looks from his best friends.

"We have to tell Ryan," I hiss back, "And erase the article somehow. But I can't just leave a blank spot in the middle of a magazine!"

"What are we waiting for?!" Harry is near hysterics. I put my hand on his back, calming him just a little.

With hurried goodbyes to a now bewildered Ron and Hermione, Harry and I floo to my office.

Once there, Harry and I stare at each other for a long time.

"Oh, fuck," he finally swears, sending us into motion. I nod in agreement as we make for Ryan's desk.

* * *

A/N: Review!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Please, oh please, oh pretty please!!! New chapter coming soon. Thanks to my wondrous betas for this chapter, morbid.faerie.tale and BEW! 


	5. What Happened Next

On A Cold Night Like Tonight—Chapter 5: "What Happened Next."

Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter and anything therein. I also don't own the prose v.s. poetry story in this chapter. No idea where it came from. But credit to them.

A/N: Okay! Thank you, Thank You. THANK YOU for all the reviews on this fic. I cannot tell you how much I appreciate people who take the time to write even an anonyms review. I really need feedback on what works and doesn't work.

* * *

Harry and I race to Ryan's desk, in a flurry of motion and hysterics. He looks up, startled, and a little bit frightened when he sees Harry. "Ryan!" I yelp, scurrying over. "Did you submit my story?"

"Of course, Mr. Malfoy," he responds cautiously. "Just as instructed."

"Fuck!" Harry and I cuss together. "Is there any way to undo this?" Panic is evident in my tone, and I know my secretary sees how serious this is. For some reason, I have the feeling he knows exactly what's going on. Ryan appears to be deep in thought. He takes off his glasses and moves his hands to his head, as if trying to pull an answer out of his brain physically. Suddenly, he succeeds.

"Well, you could put a hold on the magazine, but there would have to be a really good reason." He speculated, leaning back in his chair.

"What's a _good reason_ to stop one of the most popular magazines in the wizarding world from hitting the shelves on time?" I ask him, currently unable to think for myself.

"Well, I suppose if you wrote a story with better gossip and information, you could hold the magazine to put your article in. But the story would have to be really big. Better than the one you wrote, for sure."

"Genius!" cries Harry, beaming at Ryan. His face quickly falls. "But what's better than a relationship on the rocks?"

"Easy," Ryan insists, a gleam in his eye. "A _new _relationship."

"But I don't know about any new relationships," I moan with a mixture of impatience and mourning.

"Still easy," Ryan replies. "Make one up." Harry and I exchange a look.

"How am I supposed to make up a relationship that won't be proved false immediately? And even if someone's willing, who am I going to find that would pretend to be involved with someone else with no expectations? Who could I trust with this?"

The answer hit me just as soon as soon as Ryan cocked his head to the side and said it.

"_Harry."_

Stalking around my desk, Harry is all lists, facts and figures. I stare at my quill, willing words to come. "So how did we get together?" His brow is wrinkled in that cute little frown…

"Maybe we've been together? Secretly? Would that make for a good story?" As he nods, and I create and shape our relationship, I find myself wishing the story were true.

"Won't this look funny? Seeing as you're the author and everything?" Harry's clear eyes peer up at me, confused. He's out of his element here, but he's trying so hard.

"Yeah, Harry. I'll just switch stories with another writer."

"They'll agree to it, you think?" His eyes widen a fraction. His expression of pure innocence and trust nearly breaks my heart.

"Yeah. Who wouldn't want the juiciest story _Chamber of Secrets _has ever seen?" I smirk at him, as I cross the last 'T' of my article.

Slowly, a smile blossoms over Harry's face until it matches mine. He holds out his hand for me to take.

"Come on, then, Draco. Let's give them something to talk about." I take a moment to look at him. Really, really see him. He cocks his head to the side, a gesture of confusion.

Lacing his fingers through mine, I drag him out of my office and down to the street, nodding at Ryan as we go.

I could've sworn I saw him smile.

* * *

I once took a basic writing class, filled with poets, prose, and novel writers. My teacher was a lively witch, JoAnna, always looking for creative ways to explain literary concepts to us. I made friends with a wizard named Paul, a determined prose writer with endless curiosity about the world and its people.

He was most curious about writers themselves. It seemed every story he wrote was about writing itself. JoAnna would've argued that every piece of writing was about writing. At least, the emotion behind it is.

Paul didn't understand writers like me, scribbling down whatever came into our heads and sculpting it, forming it until it was the perfect poem. For him, everything had a plan, a goal, a plot, an outline. There was no "free form," just proper structure.

Finally, when curiosity was close to suffocating him, he asked JoAnna his question.

"Professor," he'd called, waving his hand. "What's the difference between a poet and a prose writer?" With a twinkle in her eye, JoAnna responded as any writer would: with a story.

"Once," she began, "There was a group of writers just like this one. Authors and poets alike. They were assigned to travel separately to a remote location and write what they saw there. It was requested they meet back for dinner.

Dinner came, and a young writer walked in. He was immediately asked by fellow classmates where and how he spent his day. 'I went to a cave,' he exclaimed excitedly. 'There was a bat there.'"

JoAnna gazed around the room at her students, analyzing. "This, is the difference between poets and authors, Paul," She continued, looking right at us. "All of the poets cried out, "_What was the bat like_?" as all of the authors cried, "_What happened next_?"

If Harry was a writer, he'd write prose. Methodical, precise, and detailed. A perfectionist in every sense of the word. I'm a poet, flighty and wild, creative and quirky. The two opposites need each other to function. Like yin and yang, good an evil. They need each other, even to exist.

Just as Harry and I need each other.

We've always needed each other. In our school days, we needed each other to validate ourselves, to ensure that we were constant. To prove to ourselves how right we were in our convictions.

Now, we need each other for other reasons. I need him to take care of me. I need to love him, and cherish him. I need him to keep me caring.

Harry needs me for… something. I don't know why he needs me. But I know, somehow, he does.

* * *

A/N: thanks for the reviews last chapter, guys. I really appreciate it. I'm proud to report that this is my 4th most popular story, so far. Go ahead, make it the 3rd by reviewing!

Thanks to my beta, BEW

TB


	6. Absolute

As Harry pulls me out into the street, we're immediately surrounded by eager fans and overzealous press. Their questions and shouts are indistinguishable, and all I hear is a roar of cheerful voices. I look up at Harry, helpless, and shrug my shoulders. He winks, and I blush.

"Excuse me," Harry bellows, raising his arms. And just like that, the ruckus quiets. I'm awestruck again, for the millionth time, by the power he holds over witches and wizards. His hand finds mine again, and I watch him gaze out at the crowd.

"As you can imagine, I'm very happy. Draco and I are pleased to finally make our relationship public. I assume that we will be treated with the same respect as we always have been. Am I right?" Harry flashes a charming grin to the group of adoring reporters. They swoon. Mummers of agreement waft from the group, as well as the occasional bout of crooning.

"Mr. Potter, sir," squeaks a heavy-set teenage witch. "Would you give him a kiss, then?"

Harry laughs, surprised. With a light in his eyes I haven't seen in a long while, he answers; "I suppose a little kiss wouldn't hurt,"

"Harry," I whisper urgently, "Aren't you scared that-" He cuts me off with a feather-light caress to my cheekbones. The pads of his fingers run over my face, and my eyes flutter closed as I quiver.

All at once, those lips are on mine. I can barley hear the ecstatic screaming of our fans. Blood rushes to my head and pounds in my ears. I can feel him smiling, _smirking, _and I shiver closer, trying to get as much as I can from a moment I'm sure will never repeat itself. But then, I was sure of that the last time, too.

His kiss is nothing like I imagined. He's warmer, and confident, and his lips seem so much fuller than they look. His thumb brushes my jaw, and I stifle a whimper. He cannot know that this means something to me. I can't let him know.

I stiffen in his arms, and all at once his smirk is gone. Harry pulls away from me, hurt and an apology in his eyes. Why does he always feel like he needs to apologize for everything? I shake my head and try not to grin as he waves to the hysterical crowd. The heavyset witch has fainted. It's my turn to smirk.

A final glace, and Harry and I apparate home.

_Home.

* * *

_

Harry and I walk in laughing, flushed from the cold and excitement of being in the middle of a press scandal. We agree it's been awhile since the papers have had anything to say about either of us. For once, we appreciate the coverage. But it's so much easier to appreciate when the press reports good news.

Turning into the living room, out laughter is cut short. Ron and Hermione wait with pinched faces and scowls etched into their brows.

"We're your best friends. Your _best friends_. We find out you're in love from the newspapers?" Hermione hisses, obviously hurt. Ron places a hand on her shoulder.

"Why didn't you tell us first? It hurt us so bad to know you'd been keeping this secret. Harry, you're like family to us." He glances quickly at me. "Draco, you are too, now. I just don't understand. Did you think we'd be angry? That we wouldn't support you?"

Harry's face is pale, but his eyes are bright. "No," he whispers. "It's not like that at all," He stutters, and stares at me. Searching, as if my face somehow holds the answer to his problems. I suppose he finds something, because he takes my hands with his, and looks me straight in the eyes. "Draco and I wanted to keep this quiet. We didn't want anyone to know until we figured out if it was serious. We argued one day in his office about whether or not to tell our family and friends. Someone must've heard us."

Harry's obviously miserable with his lie. He's always been shit at lying, anyway. Ron and Hermione aren't buying it. I squeeze his hands a little tighter. He opens his mouth to speak again, but I can't handle it anymore. I don't want to make him lie.

"Hermione, Ron," I butt in, to Harry's surprise. "Harry's just trying to protect me and both of you. So please don't be angry with him." I take a deep breath and drop my eyes to the floor. I can feel myself blushing. Harry always thinks it's funny when I blush. "I got bad information about Ron having an affair with Cho. After I found out it was false, Harry helped me devise a plan to keep you two out of the papers. So now, we're the wizarding world's cutest new couple. It was the only thing we could think of, at the time."

"I wonder why." Ron whispers flatly under his breath. Harry doesn't hear, or pretends not to, while I choke on a piece of my tongue. Hermione raises a slender brown brow, while Harry glances around in confusion.

"Come on, Ron. I think we've been here long enough. I'm tired." Ron scrambles to his wife's side. They pick themselves up and head towards the door.

"Does this mean I'm forgiven?" Harry calls after them, panicked. Hermione waves her hands in dismissal. "Nothing to forgive," we catch, before they're out of the door. Harry sighs with relief.

"Well, that's the worst of it, I guess," He says tiredly. "Facing our friends. The rest should be easy to deal with."

"Huh," I reply, unconvinced. He laughs.

"What, Dray? You think I can't take it?" His eyes twinkle, and I'm instantly reminded of Dumbledore.

"Honestly, Potter," I counter with mock distain, "I thought you'd be much to nervous to do any good in a relationship. Always so scared everything sexual or anything unknown. You'd make a clumsy lay."

Harry's not laughing anymore, but his eyes are still alight with amusement. His expression has turned dark, foreboding, dangerous. Like he knows what's happening next in a movie with a twist ending. It's a frightening, but sexy look for him. (But maybe it's only frightening because it's so sexy?) He takes a step to place himself right in front of me. His face is too close for comfort. I swallow loudly, trying not to gasp as I bask in Harry's power.

His breath ghosts over my cheek, making me quiver. "I don't seem scared, do I? How did you think it would be, Draco? Our relationship. Soft, sweet? Slow, fast, hard, quick, loving, _passionate_…"

His adjectives roll over me, entrancing me, as I stare into expressive eyes. Harry is waiting for my answer, but I can't seem to speak through my daze. I slowly bring my lips up to his, questioning and cautious. He presses back firmly, reassuringly wrapping his arms around my waist, hugging me closer.

His tongue floods my mouth, making me swoon. But Malfoy's don't swoon. So instead, I moan, and bite down softly on his lower lips.

He lifts me into the air until my legs wrap around his hips. His hands are all over my back, touching and keeping me steady.

But soon we stumble, back towards Harry's bed.I don't even remember coming into his room. We hit the comforter hard, with our mouth's still sealed. His hips grind into mine, creating a slowly building friction in my trousers. I'm kissing up the side of his throat, and I burry my fingers in all that unruly hair.

"Oh, God," I hear him whisper softly into my chest. He crawls back up to stare into my eyes. It's like he's begging me to tell him to stop. To knock some sense into him.

Instead, I kiss him softly, sweetly, and brush his eyelids back over his eyes with my fingers. He pulls back flushed, and reaches over to his counter for his lube. I know that's where he keeps it, but I never thought I'd see it in action.

As he enters me, I've never felt so absolute in my entire life.

* * *

_TB: I know this took forever to get out, and I'm really sorry if it seems a little off. I feel it's not as good as the other chapters. It's unbeta'd, because I got it out as quick as I could. But you know how it is with that whole "Real Life" business. It kind of takes over. Thanks for reading, though. Please drop me a review, even if I don't deserve it. _

_See you guys in chapter 7_

_TruestBlue_


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